Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1)
Chapter 49: Rogue Hearts

“Here we go again.” Rixen leaned against the dust-covered, grey stone wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does he have to collapse every time he does a spell?”

“Maybe I should have read Ars Magica more thoroughly.” I scratched the top of my head.

Ace’s body lay motionless on the ground.

“What do we do now?” Rixen asked.

I shrugged, “Wait? He woke up eventually when he summoned Abazmakiel.”

Rixen pushed himself off the wall, “I’m too nervous to stand here.”

Something crossed my mind, something quite alarming, “Rixen...?”

The shadowman looked at me.

“He said he might not be strong enough to lock Ir-kaal.” I nodded towards the unconscious mage.

“I suggest we listen to his advice and flee if he dies.” Rixen said. “We’re not going to make it without him either way. We can’t fight Soterios alone.”

A part of me, a very small, treacherous part of me wanted him to fail, just so we could run into the unknown. Together. I pushed that thought down.

“Exactly.” I murmured. “But is he going to be strong enough to fight Soterios? If he wastes his magic locking Ir-kaal...”

Rixen went through his hair and grunted, “Goddammit, we’re doomed.”

I put my torch in another candle-holder, “I feel like this place is going to collapse on our heads.”

The shadowman knocked on the dusty wall, “The palace is sturdy enough, it will hold.”

Not caring about the dust and dirt, I sat on the floor, “How did you know where the spell was?”

“I snooped.” Rixen chuckled and dropped on the floor next to me. “The Vanishing Well is here, you know?”

My eyes darted to him, “What? Where?”

“The palace is built around it.” Rixen said. “On the second floor right under the throne. Considering you’re pretty useless in a fight, I guess you can afford to check it out. You can get rid of your magic.”

Getting rid of my magic. The sole reason I came here was finally within my reach.

“Do you know where the Truthteller is?” I asked, glancing at the unconscious mage.

He had his reasons for coming here and one of them was most certainly the Truthteller. I feared questioning his other reasons.

“I don’t know.” Rixen said. “But probably within the palace. All the relics are. That’s why they built such a large basement.”

Silence settled between us, thick and tense, fuelled by the notion that this might be our last conversation, and sneakily, deviously preventing us from talking.

“Do you think I should do it?” I asked, for no other reason than to continue the conversation and use this precious moments. “Do you think I should get rid of magic?”

Rixen put his hands behind his head, his golden eyes appeared fiery under the light of the torches.

“Magic is a burden.” He spoke. “Here, it doesn’t matter much, because you don’t know how to use it, but back home... Well, people hate magic. They’ve hated it for a millennium and that’s not going to change any time soon. So, if it’s the truth you’re looking for, they will not let you rule any thrones if you’re a mage.”

I swallowed the spit gathering in my mouth.

“But...” Rixen continued before I managed to unscramble my thoughts. “If you come with me to the Spirit territory, I promise no one will care about your magic.”

My eyes shot up at him. He wasn’t looking at me, his eyes firmly set on the torch on the opposite wall, his lips thinned, his neck muscles tense.

“Rixen, I...” I took in a gulp of air, “I still want to be a princess, and eventually, a queen. I don’t know how to be anything else, I’m not built to be anything else-”

“You can’t know that.” He cut in, his glance briefly jumping to me. “You don’t even know what you’re capable of because you spent your entire life cooped up in your castle-”

“And I enjoyed it.” I interrupted. “My Kingdom is my home. I love being a princess. And that won’t change.”

“Then, that’s it.” Rixen suddenly stood up, startling me. “Whatever happened here is over.”

Pain gripped my insides, but underneath it, anger flared, “Why do I have to give up my throne? Why can’t you do something?”

“And what the hell am I supposed to do?” Rixen raised his voice.

I stood up, “Look at that box!”

Rixen momentarily frowned, “What?”

“Look at it!” I shouted. “Our blood opened it! Our blood melted the gold that guarded this box. You’re a Bastian heir with Orathian blood flowing through your veins. You could be a king, you could take down King Bernard and rule, not just Bastia, but Orathia, too!”

Rixen chuckled, dismissing me, “I’m not fit to rule.”

“Oh, shut up!” I snapped. “How dare you ask me to give up my Kingdom when you won’t even claim yours? I may not be willing to give up my destiny to be with you, but you’re not even willing to put in some effort to be with me. And it’s not because of me, or because you’re not fit to rule, it’s because you’re a coward. You’ve always been a coward.”

Rixen flinched and I regretted my words momentarily, but my regret did not erase their truthfulness.

He gathered himself in a moment, surprise in his eyes switching places with anger, “Destiny? You’re going to talk about destiny, and blood, and cowardice? You’re a mind mage! There hasn’t been a mage in Irenwell in centuries and suddenly, magic is flowing through the Princess’s blood and you’re not even a bit curious if that might mean something. You’re a coward, Irina.”

Tears stung my eyes, my shoulders slumped.

“Or we simply don’t love each other enough to sacrifice other things.” I said.

Rixen’s anger disappeared, replaced by low, rumbling sadness.

“I don’t want to rule Bastia.” He said.

“And I don’t want to live in a cabin in the woods. I’m a royal, Rixen, and I intend to stay one.”

“I guess that’s it, then.” Rixen offered a small, tight smile. “Love does not defeat all.”

A few tears escaped my eyes and I wiped them away with a shaky hand, “No.”

“I’m very sorry to interrupt this moment.” Nickeltinker’s small form appeared in the light, he leaned on his knees and breathed heavily, “But we have company.”

Whatever I might have been feeling up to that moment disappeared, devoured by fear. Rixen looked at me, panic shining in his eyes.

“Why is Ace unconscious?” Nickeltinker asked, still out of breath.

“Because, apparently, that’s how spells work.” I sighed. “Where are Torvald and Danilo?”

“Preparing for battle.” Nick answered. “Which is exactly what Ace should be doing instead of taking his afternoon nap.”

“Alright.” Rixen took the torch off the candle-holder. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, what do I do?” I glanced between the shadowman and the floran.

“Stay here, watch over Ace.” Rixen said. “You won’t be of much use upstairs. Where is Soterios?” He turned to Nick.

“Not far. An hour or so away.” Nickeltinker turned to the door. “Torvald and Danilo are barricading the square; we don’t have enough manpower to keep Soterios outside the city. These damn Orathians didn’t even know how to build a proper castle, no wonder they went extinct.”

“Let’s go.” Rixen nudged the floran through the door, then turned to me, “Send Ace up the moment the spell is done.”

I nodded and they left.

The mage grunted, “What did I miss?”

“Soterios is here.” I stared at the door, already missing someone I’ve never even had. “We don’t have much time.”

The mage stood up, “It’s time for the spell.”

He grabbed the scroll from the box with shaky fingers. His face turned way too pale. Would he be able to do the spell and save us from Soterios?

“Can you do this?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“If I were a gambling man, I wouldn’t bet on it.” Ace grinned. “But knowing you’ll win takes all the fun out of the game.”

My veins froze with fear.

Ace began to read the words from the scroll. The language was foreign, rough, and complex. The words sounded long and tongue-twisting. Over Ace’s shoulder, I peered at the text. I knew none of the letters; they were all unfamiliar scribbles, some complex and intricate, others just dashes and dots smeared across the paper.

The sound of the words brought forth certain cold; slimy, wet, sleazy cold. It reminded me of the swamp-covered fields of Irenwell during the cold, autumn nights. Air turned moist and wet, the torches’ fire almost burned out, and fear crept through my veins.

Ace grunted suddenly, losing focus.

I rushed to his side, looked at him, and moved away on instinct.

His wild green eyes were now completely black, staring into nothing. His lips shivered, their colour bordering on blue, and his face was awash with paleness, a whiteness akin to the dead more than the living.

Ace continued to read.

That buried, primal part of my soul, one I so assuredly ignored, awakened with vigour, trashing against my insides, needing to be released. My magic went wild, either fearing Ace’s words or responding to them.

This was a different sort of magic. There was something dark, deviant and deadly about it. Two hundred years, Ace had said, that was how long it took him to create that spell.

As I watched the pale mage recite the words, I wondered what he tapped into.

The mage’s face distorted, twisting into a painful grimace, as words slipped from his tongue, each heavier than the last. His skin turned ashy white and his fingernails blackened.

Dread washed over me; the fear that I might stay here with the dying mage, buried underneath seven floors of stone, never again seeing the light of the day. I breathed in deeply, focusing on the flickering lights of the torches, forcing myself to remain calm.

Ace’s voice grew louder, his teeth ground against each other, and he stumbled back, almost as if pushed by a force.

“What do I do?” I whispered, not sure whether I should interrupt him.

Ace managed to raise his hand, shushing me, and continued to recite the spell.

The magic in my blood wouldn’t shut up; it churned and turned and purred, begging, pleading, trashing against my veins.

Ace’s words turned meeker, quieter, and his eyelids fluttered.

Instinct pushed me forward, some unfamiliar, visceral command made me come closer, as if my magic gained its own consciousness, and right before Ace’s eyes closed, I grabbed his cold, sweaty forearm.

Pain sprung through me, gripping and shaking everything in its wake. It rang through my veins, my mind, my blood. I let out an animalistic roar, and barely noticed when my body hit the ground. As I screamed and trashed, my hand still firmly held Ace, and he managed to continue his recitation.

Images flashed before my eyes; some were memories, others were dreams, and the last seemed like premonitions. Death, decay and pain combined with flashes of lights. Heat rose in the room, turning insufferable. Sensations overwhelmed me; heat, pain, magic.

And then it stopped, all at once.

Blinking and breathing rapidly, I raised my head.

Ace was on the ground, scroll still in hand, face pale, but eyes as green as ever.

“We did it.” He whispered. “We managed to read the spell.”

“What happened?” I stood up, dusting myself.

Ace’s wild eyes settled on me, “You helped me.”

“I thought you’d fall and break your neck, so I stopped you.”

I looked around. Nothing’s changed. The torches calmly flickered away and the same stale smell lingered in the room. Whatever we’ve done, it wasn’t done here.

“No, no.” Ace was still looking at me; his face awash with childlike wonder. “You touched me and shared the burden of the spell. I would have died if you hadn’t done that.”

Ace was still paler than the moon, but he did not look like he was on the brink of death.

“So... we did it?” I asked, slightly uncomfortable.

“We did the spell.” Ace nodded. “But it will take a while for Ir-kaal to lock completely, possibly days.”

“Well, alright.” I mumbled. “But we have to kill Soterios now.”

“Wait.” Ace raised his finger. “We’re not done here.”

“What now?” I grunted.

The same old Ace returned in a moment; his eyes shone with wickedness, his lips twitched upward, and he let out a small, devious laugh.

“I believe we’ve struck a deal some time ago, your Grace. You owe me a favour.”